


No More Restraint, No More Uncertainty

by helens78



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angry Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, One of My Favorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-16
Updated: 2003-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viggo has been keeping his desires in check ever since he met Sean, but when it turns out Sean's not as restrained as Viggo is, things get messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No More Restraint

Viggo isn't _obsessed_. Not exactly. He's just... _interested_.

Really, who wouldn't be interested? Sean is gorgeous, and funny, and the way he looks when he's smiling -- well. Viggo has quite a number of pictures of Sean, and he's considered keeping copies for himself instead of just putting them on the walls of the trailer.

But Sean is, as far as anyone can tell, straight. He's been hanging out with Cate, mostly, and he's not nearly as easygoing with his touches as much of rest of the cast is. Orlando, Dom, Elijah -- Viggo has spent quite a bit of time fending off drunken advances from each of them in turn, and he's exchanged light touches here and there.

But Viggo is a one-man-at-a-time sort of guy. He gets taken by someone; his attention is taken, and he gets a bit obsessed. Doesn't really have eyes for anyone else. Even if the man in question not only isn't interested, but probably never will be.

Karl -- Karl's tempting. There's something about Karl that Viggo finds very appealing, and there have been nights where one more move from either of them would probably get Viggo's mind off Sean for once and for all. But that move never seems to get made.

Viggo walks past a group of laughing hobbits and smiles slightly to himself; he's tired, it's about time to get out of his costume -- well, as much as he ever gets out of his costume -- and go home for the night. He steps into the trailer--

\--and stops cold.

Sean.

On his knees.

In front of Karl.

Karl's hands are tangled in Sean's hair, and he's grinning wildly, face flushed, lips parted just a bit, grunting and gasping and thrusting his hips forward, plunging his cock into Sean's mouth over, and over, and Viggo is fucking _mesmerized_. It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, maybe more beautiful because he didn't realize it was possible, maybe more beautiful because he's so jealous his vision has gone green. He's hard, instantly, and doesn't know whether to reach for his sword or his cock or whether to turn on his heel and walk out of the room.

Karl's eyes go up, away from Sean's face -- Viggo doesn't know how Karl can do that; if it were him against the wall, there's nowhere he'd be able to look but Sean. Sean's face, Sean's mouth, Sean's lips wrapped around his cock, _God_.

But Karl is looking up at Viggo, and his brow creases slightly. He shakes his head, very quickly, and mouths, _Later_.

 _Later?_ Viggo doesn't know what the hell Karl means, but it's clear he isn't wanted here. That he's intruding on something he shouldn't be. He backs out of the trailer, silently, and walks around the corner, slumping against the outside of the vehicle, head going back, thumping against the siding.

Sean.

On his knees.

In front of Karl.

 _God_.

He hears the crunch of leaves and holds still, eyes closed. He doesn't know who's approaching, and really doesn't care. If it's Karl or Sean come to beat the shit out of him for intruding on their moment, he probably deserves it.

"Hey," says Karl, very quietly. "You all right?"

"Fine," Viggo mumbles. "You?"

Viggo feels the impact as Karl slumps against the siding next to him. Viggo is rocked slightly off-balance and falls lightly into Karl's shoulder. Karl hums, sounding entirely too satisfied, and Viggo feels an answering pang of -- jealousy? anger? hurt? -- in his chest.

"You didn't know?" Karl asks.

"Well, I thought he was with Cate," Viggo mumbles, thinking none of this makes sense, that Karl isn't making any sense, that his own words mean nothing.

"Don't know what Sean and Cate are up to," Karl answers. "But Sean loves blowjobs. You didn't know that?"

Viggo's eyes snap open and he turns to Karl with a frown. "Why would I know that?"

"He's been down on half the cast. They keep quiet about it, mostly, but the way you watch him, I figured he'd been swallowing you whole from the first day you met."

"Hhnn," Viggo snorts, whuffling noncommittally.

"But then, if he'd been swallowing you whole since you met, you _wouldn't_ be looking at him that way, would you? Funny, that." Karl grins. "You want some advice?"

 _No,_ Viggo thinks, _I want you to shut up and go away, and leave me to wallow here in peace._ But he shrugs anyway. "Sure," he says, very softly.

"Catch him alone, grab him by the back of his neck, and tell him to get on his knees and suck you off like the slut he is. Works great."

There's a flash of violent, furious anger that springs up in Viggo; he can picture himself slamming Karl back into the trailer, forearm pressed up against Karl's throat, eyes blazing, snarling _You don't fucking treat him that way_ \--

\--and then, of course, reality, or some variation thereof settles in, and Viggo draws in a shaky breath, remembering that he is, at least in theory, a pacifist. He's not given to beating up friends because they're sleeping with -- no -- being sucked off by other friends.

Even if the other friend in question is Sean.

Karl can see the look in Viggo's eyes; he raises an eyebrow and smirks. _Smirks_. Viggo's fists clench unconsciously, and he has to look away.

"Oh, this is good," Karl grins. "Tell me you're not in love with him."

"Karl..." Viggo mumbles, because he wants to say _shut the fuck up_ , and he can't -- he just can't.

"It's your own fault, mate. You could have gone up to him at any moment and said something."

Softer than ever, Viggo mumbles, "I know."

"Well." Karl steps away from the trailer and looks over his shoulder at Viggo. "There's nothing saying you can't say something to him now. Think about how his lips would look around your cock, and decide whether you can snap him down off that _I-love-you_ pedestal long enough to put your hands in his hair and make him choke on it." Karl smirks again. "That works great, too, with him. He's such a fucking slut he can get off just sucking cock. He loves choking on it."

Viggo's fingertips reach out behind him, try to dig into the trailer wall and find purchase. No such luck; his fingertips scrabble over cold metal and he has to close his eyes for a moment before he can look at Karl. His eyes are glinting.

Karl shakes his head. "Pedestals are great and all, Viggo, but tell me it wouldn't feel a hell of a lot better having him down on his knees than up on a pedestal where you can never touch him."

Viggo doesn't say a word. He can't. Doesn't dare. And when Karl walks away, Viggo looks down at the ground, unable to think clearly.

Some time later, Viggo finds himself at home, pacing a bit, palms itching, wanting to spill paint, spill himself, wanting something, movement, motion, some way of draining the jealousy and wrath out of him. These are feelings he doesn't want, feelings he isn't at all comfortable having. This is not _him_ , he thinks, not the way he really is. It's Aragorn and exhaustion and--

\--it's Sean, is what it is. Karl's right. Viggo can't say he's not in love with Sean, can't say it wouldn't feel better having Sean on his knees than up on that pedestal.

The knock on his door doesn't surprise him. Not really. He walks over and yanks the door open, eyes flashing.

"Viggo," Sean says, expression guarded, not looking terrified by Viggo's flashing eyes, Viggo still being half in costume, half in character. Viggo can't _tell_ what Sean's feeling, damn it. Hell, he can't tell what he's feeling, either. And that's been the problem all along, really. He just.

Can't.

Tell.

"Sean," Viggo manages, voice strained.

"We were worried about you after the way you stalked off," Sean says quietly. "Karl was under the impression I should come and talk to you."

Viggo's chest tightens, his eyes narrow. "Oh?" he asks, very quietly.

"Viggo--" Sean takes a step inside, and Viggo takes a step back. Sean raises an eyebrow, then closes the door behind him. "Tell me what's the matter." He steps further into the room, coming up to Viggo, closing the distance until there's just a breath between them, until leaning in closer would have them up against each other's chests, touching, _kissing_ , even, if Viggo just turned his face--

"What did Karl say to you?" Sean asks, interrupting Viggo's line of thought.

And with his thoughts interrupted so badly, Viggo can only mumble out, "I saw you. This afternoon. With Karl."

Sean blinks, then pulls back. That sense of only being a breath apart dissipates, and Viggo feels it as if it's a physical blow. "You saw me?" Sean repeats. His expression is growing hard, cold. "You were watching," he continues, starting to sound angry. "You came in without knocking and you stood there and _watched_?"

Sean's anger seems to set something off in Viggo; his own eyes are throwing sparks again, blue ones matching Sean's green. "Is it true? What he said?" Viggo asks.

"What did he say?" Sean asks, words clipping out from behind gritted teeth.

Viggo stays silent. He doesn't want to stammer, doesn't want to stumble over his words, but he can't think of any way he could answer that without losing his grip on the English language. For long moments, their gazes are angry, caught, held.

Sean looks away first. Glances away, then looks down at the floor.

And Viggo feels something falling away from him. Much later, he'll realize what it is. It's his self-control. His restraint.

He reaches out, so fast it makes Sean's head snap back, Sean's green eyes wide with near-shock.

And his hand grabs the back of Sean's neck.

And he tugs, hard, and pushes Sean to his knees.

Sean hits the ground hard and lets out a soft curse. But now his eyes are waist-level, and he stares straight ahead. When he shifts, it's not because his knees hurt -- though they probably do -- and it's not because he's trying to get away from the grip on the back of his neck -- though that's probably not comfortable, either.

"Do it," Viggo hisses.

And Sean reaches forward for the front of Viggo's trousers.


	2. No More Uncertainty

Viggo is a pacifist. Viggo would probably rather die than actually walk up to Karl and hit him.

Sean, on the other hand, is a Sheffield boy at heart, and when his fist connects with Karl's jaw, he feels nothing but a sense of grim satisfaction.

Karl hits the ground hard and looks up at Sean, completely flattened.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" he asks.

"What the fuck do you _think_?" Sean spits back. " _Bastard._ "

Sean stalks off, oblivious to the stunned looks on the faces of everyone who was watching -- not just Karl, but Dom, Billy, Elijah, Liv. Sean's mind is on last night, on the way his neck still feels bruised from Viggo's grip.

 _Do it._

Sean slams into his trailer and comes to a standstill once he's alone and out of sight. He remembers the feel of Viggo's hand on the back of his neck, the taste of Viggo's skin -- _finally, God, finally here, finally tasting him, finally getting to do this for him_ \--

\--and then the warm splash of come on his face--

\--and the way Viggo had stayed still, head bowed forward, lips parted slightly, unable to move, barely able to breathe, just the way Sean had always pictured him--

\--and the way Sean had stood up after, his hand going to Viggo's cheek, lips parting and getting out _I lo_ \--

\--and then Viggo had pulled back... no, _yanked_ back, eyes wild, expression fierce and furious, teeth together, breath suddenly coming back to him, through those clenched teeth--

\--and he'd said _Get the fuck out of here, Sean._

 _Get the fuck out of here, Sean._

The heels of Sean's hands dig into the sockets of his eyes as he holds still in the center of the room. There's nothing more to do. Nothing more to say. He doesn't even know where to start, where to go to get himself put back together.

 _Get the fuck out of here, Sean._

If Viggo had slapped him, it might have hurt less. He could have reached forward and taken Viggo's hands in his and said _Look at me. It's me, Viggo. Touch me. Here._ And he could have set Viggo's hands on his shoulders, felt the way Viggo's fingers curled into his arms, let Viggo draw him close and kiss him.

 _Get the fuck out of here, Sean._

Sean wonders if things would have been different if he'd managed to keep the shocked anger out of his voice when Viggo made his confession. _You came in without knocking and you stood there and watched?_

But he _was_ angry. He's still angry, when it comes to that. Angry that Viggo didn't come to him sooner; angry that Karl had to say _something_ to Viggo -- whatever in hell it was Karl had said, it had led to that grip on the back of his neck and that fierce look on Viggo's face.

And it had also led to the one chance he was going to have to taste Viggo. Which meant despite everything, despite his anger, Sean had reason to be grateful to Karl for whatever it was he'd said. Whatever it was that had shocked Viggo into taking Sean up on the offer Sean's eyes had been trying to make since the day they met. Whatever Karl had said, it had gotten Sean closer to what he thought he'd wanted than he'd ever expected.

And so much further away.

 _Get the fuck out of here, Sean._

Sean had been so _convinced_ it was never going to happen between them that he'd talked himself out of approaching Viggo in the first place. He'd taken what he could get from others -- Cate's company, the bitter taste of come from the men of the cast -- but what he'd really wanted...

It doesn't matter. Over. Done. One night, one mistake, and now they're both goddamned good and well shattered.

The door opens; Sean stands still, hands still covering his eyes, and waits to identify the intruder by the sound of his breathing.

He hears nothing. But he feels a hand, half-gloved in leather, slide over his throat, and he feels the warmth of Viggo's body press up against him.

"What just happened?" Viggo murmurs, lips at Sean's ear, fingers playing lightly over the skin of Sean's throat.

Sean swallows hard, and his hands fall, very slowly, to his sides. His breath doesn't catch, not really; he's still breathing evenly, even though his heart feels as though it's going to slam straight out of his chest.

Viggo's other hand slides over Sean's stomach, fingertips idly exploring the curve of his belly and then dipping slightly into the waistband of his pants. "Tell me," he murmurs, sounding urgent. "I saw you go up to Karl. Saw you walk away. What happened?"

Sean opens his mouth to speak, but then Viggo unfastens the top button on his pants, and all that comes out is a soft, aborted moan.

Viggo's hand stills abruptly, fingertips tucked into Sean's fly. His other hand tightens on Sean's throat, just a bit, and he brushes his lips across the skin just under Sean's ear. "Tell me," he whispers.

"...he took something from me. Something I wanted very badly," Sean manages to whisper.

Viggo's grip loosens. "I know how you feel," he murmurs. His other hand moves to the second button, and with a quick twist of his wrist, it comes open. "He took something from me as well. Something I wanted just as badly."

Another button comes undone, and then the next, and then Viggo's hand is reaching into Sean's pants, curving around Sean's cock while his other hand runs fingertips over Sean's neck, gentle little caresses that draw quiet, shuddering moans out of Sean's throat. Viggo's hand is steady, certain, moving on Sean's cock in all the ways that Sean would have asked for, begged for, given half a chance. Sean's hands fly up to take the hand from his throat and lift it to his mouth. He pulls Viggo's fingers into his mouth and sucks, hard, tongue flicking over Viggo's fingers the way his tongue worked at Viggo's cock last night. Sean has to let his head fall back, though; the pleasure is too intense, too beautiful, and he never expected to feel this way again--

"What... God... what are you doing?" he breathes, and he half-expects Viggo to laugh at that. _I'm getting you off,_ he's expecting, _or hadn't you noticed?_

But Viggo doesn't laugh. His voice is very steady, very serious. "Karl took something from me that I wanted very badly," he murmurs. "I'm taking it back."

The breath explodes out of Sean's chest, and his eyes close hard; he leans fully into Viggo, and Viggo catches him. He can feel the rigid warmth of Viggo's erection against his arse, and God, if that isn't the most fantastic feeling he's ever dreamed of, he doesn't know what is. "Please," he moans, "oh, God, yes, please, Viggo..."

Viggo's hips thrust into Sean's arse, and Viggo's sounds are rough, panting gasps, sounds Sean is echoing unconsciously. Sean wants to move back against Viggo, but he's only upright thanks to the safe security of Viggo's arm around his chest; he can only moan in approval as Viggo thrusts up against him and keeps moving his hand in firm, certain strokes. Sean's head falls back, resting on Viggo's shoulder. "Please," he whispers again.

And Viggo murmurs, "Come for me, Sean."

\-- _for me_ \--

Sean's back arches; his hands clench in midair, and he groans, a long, growling groan. The wave of pleasure comes over him nearly in slow motion; by the time he's done with it, his chest aches, and it's only the soft puffs of air on his neck that remind him to breathe. When he finally figures out how to take in air again, it escapes in nearly-inaudible, panted laughs.

Viggo nuzzles into the skin of Sean's neck and laughs, too, very softly. His cock presses into Sean's arse again, and Sean moans.

"Viggo, let me -- let me do something for you," he says, knowing it's coming out as a plea, like so many of his words have today.

"You _are_ doing something," Viggo chuckles, and his head comes forward, forehead resting on Sean's shoulder, arm tightening around Sean's chest, as he presses against Sean one more time. Hard. Sean hears Viggo take in a breath and let it out slowly, feels the pulsing of Viggo's cock against his arse, the ragged moan that comes from Viggo as he finally stops moving, finally stops pulsing, and simply collapses against Sean, spent.

There's more laughter, then; first from Viggo, then from Sean. Sean holds still, and for all that he'd thought he couldn't hold himself steady, let alone Viggo, he's supporting them both now. And he knows he can do it for as long as he needs to.


End file.
